


Light at the End of the World

by Kadaaver



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae Dirk, M/M, and a ninety-nine percent chance of smut in the future, jake is a very lonely farm boy, moral of this story is actually that birds are friends, there's also some weird kind of body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 09:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadaaver/pseuds/Kadaaver
Summary: Jake is the last person alive in his village and he's surrounded by dark forest as far as the eye can see.He has made this place into as much of a paradise as he could, but the loneliness is an unfavourable companion.This is a lovestory about two lonely boys who reach out and find each other, even across the divide between worlds.





	Light at the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally intended to just be a one-shot smut fic but..... the setting is just too goddamn good for that. So strap in, i guess..!
> 
>  
> 
> [An Illustration I made of Dirk ;w;](http://kadasketches.tumblr.com/post/175472167603/fae-au-has-me-and-my-knees)

The sunlight is always so warm during the summers. The way it reaches through the thick, luscious branches of the trees and kisses your skin despite it being so early in the morning. It’s moments like this that makes everything worth it, waking up together with the sun to see the way it paints the fields and forests with its magic.

Your home is built on top of quite a steep hill, so you have the perfect view-spot over your village. Or well, it’s not _yours_ in any type of aspect. It’s just that you are the last one left in it.

Down the previously mentioned hill goes a well-walked trail. It leads to a couple of more houses thats right by the edge of the woods. They’re empty, and so they’ve been for a long time. When you were born, there was only four people left in this village. You, your mother, your grandmother and a woman named Laurie. There had never really been any room for optimism among the four of you, you had always known that during the course of time you were going to end up alone out here. But it hadn’t been a looming disaster, just another fact of life. When you were younger you thought you would just grab your boots, pack your bag and leave when the time came. But on the morning after you had laid your grandmother to her final rest you hadn’t felt wanderlust. Rather the contrary, you had felt a stubborn desire to stay. This was your home, always had been, and it was always going to be.

It happens now and then that you walk down the old path. You don’t really need to visit the old village, seeing as you have your well and garden up on your hill. But being among more houses gives you a sense of company, no matter how rusted and overgrown the old buildings get.

But you’re not completely alone. There’s still the big herd of cows that wander the slanting fields below your home, and your own personal flock of chickens that lives with you on your yard. You think that out of all possible places to be stuck at, this is the best there is. The chickens gives you a steady supply of protein, eggs and meat both. And the cows give you more milk and cheese than you could ever hope to find use for (It’s a shame you will probably never have any visitors, you often think, because you could definitely spare to offer some luxurious foods). And finally, your favourite company, is the faraway songs echoing over the trees during special summer nights. You had never seen the forest folk, but your grandmother had. You never got the sense from her that she feared them, but she respected them massively. You remember following her into the woods with small offerings as a child. Only little things, a canister of milk, or a sweet cake perhaps. Your grandmother said that it was very important to have a good relation with them, especially since you lived so close by their lands.

Meaning, the forest you live by. Or, in, to be technical. The village was built in a huge forest clearing, so while you have more potential land than you could ever make use of, you still live in the thick of the massive forest. Which is why leaving has never been an option, even when your mother was still alive. She had been born here, just like you. And from what you’ve been told, you’re all the descendants of a group of refugees. The history had never been documented, but you assumed that they had went out of their way to find the most secluded spot the world had to offer. Or, they had simply walked and walked until they found this place. The story makes sense to you, as it does explain why there’s no roads in and out of here. This place just.. exists.

Your own hidden edge of the world.

*

You always start the day off by making a visit to the hens’ house. There’s only two buildings on your yard, one is your house and the other is an old stable, and the latter has been claimed by your feathered friends. Not that you mind, you don’t have any horses who could live there anyways, and it’s nice to see the birds make it into a home of their own.

You have to watch your feet when you step inside. The chickens are small and fast so you need to be attentive. It seems a bit too early for them still, given how the stable is all quiet. That works perfectly in your advantage as you reach in under your friends to collect the eggs, a quick check against the sunlight to make sure they’re not inhabited, and then into the basket they go.

One of the hens squawk in annoyance at you, and you make note to chop up some vegetables for them in the evening. They’re doing so much for you, after all. It’s only fair you treat them back.

After breakfast, you take a stroll on the field. It’s late summer, so the grass would usually be around shoulder-height, but on this side of the field it’s grazed clean. When you were younger, the herd used to be in an enclosed pasture, but like with much else, it had fallen apart over time. The cows stayed, though. Not quite tame, but not quite wild either.

You sit down at a distance, but still revel in the company they give you.

While you watch them you tread your fingers through the short grass, mindless at first but when you find something lusher than you expected, you glance down. It’s a tiny patch of clovers. Not a lot, but they’re very large. Perfect for the chickens, you realize, and pick a bunch. It’s only on your way back up the hill that you notice that seemingly every single clover you just picked up has four leafs. A sign of good luck, your mother’s voice echo in the back of your mind. It’s a small thing, but it makes you smile.

And if they could, the chickens would surely smile too. They love this stuff, and it fills you with joy to see and hear their excitement when they’re picking apart your gifted food.

And this is how you spend the most of your time. You pretty much wander around until you stumble over something to do, be it harvesting this seasons vegetables or saving a poor deer calf who wandered to deep into the lake one day. There’s definitely always something.

Seeing as summer is slowly coming to its end, the evenings also turn darker. But your internal clock simply refuses to go after the rising and setting of the sun, resulting in you walking around with an oil lamp in otherwise complete darkness, herding in the chickens for the night. You don’t _have_ to, they always find a way out of the stables no matter how many holes you fix, but it’s a nice sort of evening ritual to have. Sort of like putting the kids to bed. The thought makes you grin.

Despite the solitude, you’re not very big on talking to yourself. You talk to the animals, of course, but otherwise not much. You do sing, however. But you don’t know that many songs, so a lot of the time it’s just wordless melodies.

You’re humming along calmly as you walk over your yard, shifting the lantern from one hand to the other to see if you’ve missed any of the birds. Then, all of a sudden, there’s a deep humming voice coming out from the trees. It sounds like it’s coming from a distance, but at the same time you can hear it around you clear as day. It halts you in your own melody, initially out of fright but then because you want to keep listening. It goes on for a little while, but then everything goes quiet again. Not a single leaf is rustling in the forest.

It’s been a couple of minutes before you realize that perhaps you’re supposed to say something.

“That was quite a beautiful song there. If I’m not mistaken, I believe I’ve heard it before..?” You ask carefully. If this is what you think it is, you’re going to have to watch your words. When there’s no response, you hurriedly add;  
“I hope that is not a rude thing to say! I don’t intend to in any way disregard your creative integrity.”

Shit.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is.. are you one of the ones I’ve heard singing so often?”

No response.

“If you are.. I just want to say that I've enjoyed it very much. Now I’m gonna go before I shove my foot in my mouth even more.”

You wait for just a couple of seconds more, just to assure yourself you’re not getting a reply, then you hurry back inside your house while your pride is still somewhat intact. If that was your first encounter with a Faerie you had just made the biggest fool out of yourself. When you enter your house you slam your hands against your heated cheeks and stare up into the ceiling.

“Holy bejesus.”

And that’s putting it mildly. Your heart is hammering away against your chest. It’s one thing to know something’s out there, to sometimes hear the echoes of a distant song, but getting a sense that something is looking right at you from only a couple of meters away? That had been _terrifying_.

Despite living in the thick of a wild forest, it’s not often you lay awake, too scared to fall asleep.

*

The next day, it’s the sun that wakes you up. It’s peeking in through your window and stinging your eyes, determined to not let you sleep any longer than you already have. The sheets rustle as you push yourself up from the mattress.

Your slippers are where you left them, so you shove your feet into them and walk out to the kitchen. Your house only has two rooms really, the one you sleep in - grandmother's old room, and the kitchen - where you used to sleep in when you were younger. It's quite plain, meaning there isn't really any nooks it crannys to hide away in. Which is why it completely baffles you when you find one of your chickens standing on the table.

“Whoa there. How'd you get in here, sweetheart?”

The hen is crooning cautiously at you, so you go out of the way and open the door up for her. When the sounds of the outdoors become clear, she rushes down from you table and runs outside in a flash. You thoughtfully stroke your jaw. Of course, your mind can't help but wander to the encounter of yesterday night. If there truly was a Faerie just around the corner, it would certainly make sense. They were known for their fondness of mischief after all. That, or the poor chicken had snuck inside during your little chase down yesterday. But that didn't really add up.

You still don't wander particularly far into the forest. It's become habit from your childhood. But to find what you're looking for you're gonna have to broaden your horizons a little bit. But you only ever go where you can still see the light from the clearing still. It's always scared you to accidentally wind up lost in the woods, especially now when there was no one around to find you.

But there's a reason why you're out here. You're trying to find a Gate. You actually have seen one of these before, but that was many years ago. Gates are said to be a direct connection to the Fae and their world, appearing in the form of a mushroom circle. The facts are a bit blurred in your memories, but what you know for sure is that it's in the Gates you're supposed to put offerings. You've never done this on your own, and it would be a lie to say you're not nervous. This was one of the few things that had consequences outside your ability to handle if you messed this up.

Now, mushroom circles aren't the easiest thing to find. Especially since it can be any kind of mushroom, meaning, they can be any size and colour. So your descent into the woods is _not_ particularly fast, but you would really hate to step on one of these things (Lord knows what would happen then). You haven't really kept track of the time, but it feels like it's been an hour when you finally spot something in the corner of your eye.

It's a white, perfect circle of mushrooms.

Impossible to miss, for the grass and moss around it are dark green in contrast. It's quite a sight actually, and you approach it with respect and caution. When nothing happens, you feel confident enough to kneel down next to it and put your small fabric-wrapped bundle on the ground.  Thankfully, Fae folk seem to be quite simple in their taste. And not in a _bad_ way, they just seem to appreciate the small and good things here in life. Such as bakery and pretty rocks. It's quite endearing actually, and you chuckle softly as you place the collection of sweets and trinkets in the middle of the mushrooms.

You don't know if you're supposed to say anything, so you don't. You just have a quick look around again before you return back home.

Now, hopefully your chickens would be left in peace.

*

It's not like anything abruptly changes the day after your little offering. It's more like everything goes on just like normal, and nothing happens that makes you think of the odd occurrences.

Until one morning.

Like always, you try to rise with the sun. But with the approaching autumn it happens that you're out and about before your companion in the sky. It's foggy outside, and enough light to make out the stables from your kitchen window. The stable doors are wide open, but.. your chickens aren't outside.

This immediately chills your blood with worry.

It's not unheard of that a fox pays a visit to the stables, but last time you checked, foxes couldn't open up closed doors.

You shove your feet into your boots in a hurry and rush outside. It's not a cold day, but it's not warm either. And the thick fog is certainly not helping your growing chills. But the inside of the stables are calm. There's no ruckus and there's none of those telltale loose feathers in the ground. You start to think that perhaps you simply forgot to properly close the door last night, and all this worry was for naught. But when you round the corner to where your flock is nesting, you're halted in your steps.

There's a boy sitting in the hay pile.

He's the fairest thing you've ever seen. His skin is almost milky white, dusted in a pale but thick layer of freckles. He's dressed in what looks like just a white sheet, but it's wrapped around his body elegantly and fastened with golden accessories. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was a god.

He has one of your chickens on his lap, one hand scratching her neck gently. His gaze finally lock onto yours, and for a moment it's like time stops. He is so beautiful. His eyes are the most captivating orange, like the fiercest sunset, and framed by thick, white eyelashes. He smiles thinly towards you, then gets up and gently places the hen down on the spot he previously sat.

“I wanted to finally meet you,” He says cryptically.

“And thank you personally for your gifts.”

As if it hadn't already been clear before, you realize that this man- this entity, was the same presence you had noticed time and time again. You never would have guessed he would actually show himself, or go as far to seek you out. You really wish your grandma was here, she would know if this was a bad or a good thing.

“O-of course! I had it on good authority that those would be appreciated. I just hope my baking wasn't too dreadful.” You stammer out.

“To the contrary. I would even go as far as to call it the highlight.”

It's so unexpected that you can't help but snort. This Faerie creature enjoyed your amateur baking. Mark that down as one thing you never expected happening to you.

  
"I wouldn't mind baking some more for you if that's the case. It's not often I get to practice my hospitality."

  
"I think I would like that." He says and smiles gently. Everything about him has a strange soft and gentle aura, mixed together with his sharp, masculine features. He's absolutely alluring, and exactly what you'd expect from someone whose kind is literally named 'the fair folk'.

  
"I must admit.. I do not know do much about humans, other than than you're vary of my kind. Which I understand. Many Fae find their delight in your demise, but I promise that I do not."

  
You've been so captivated by him when he's been talking, so you hadn't noticed him approaching you. He's wrapped his arms around his own torso and he's looking you over curiously, like you and your worn clothes are as magic and mystical as he is to you. He stops about a meter away. It's close, but you don't feel the need to back off. He's carrying himself so relaxed that you don't find it in you to be nervous.

  
"That's only half the reason I wanted to meet you though," he continues to say, and goddamnit, even his voice is smooth and nice to listen to. "I've heard you a lot. When you've been talking to your animal friends. It's hard to miss how lonely you seem."

  
"Yeah you're.. certainly not wrong. I'm the only my one left here after all. In fact.. you're actually the first other man I've met in my whole life. My family were all women." It might be a little silly remark, but the realization had hit you and you couldn't help voicing it. The Fae regards you with curiosity and tilts his head slightly.

  
"Does it pain you?"

  
"That I.. what? Oh, that I'm the only one left?" He nods once. "Ah.. I guess sometimes it does. I miss my grandma a lot. And it's hard to see the other buildings fall apart more and more every year, it's the biggest reminder that I'm out here alone."

  
"But it's your home, is it not?"

  
"It is! I used to want to leave, but I don't think I could. It would break my heart should I come back in a couple of years and see everything overgrown. And besides, the forest is much too dangerous to cross. Uhm. No offense."

  
His previously calm smile takes on a teaseful vibe and he shakes his head. "None taken. You're wise to be cautious. And even if there wouldn't be any Fae around, there's still the wildlife." He falls silent a bit, and you're not sure what to make of it.

  
Then all of a sudden, he touches you. He’s cupping one of your hands between both of his and turns your palm upwards, fingers gracing across your skin in curiosity first, then he cups them both purposefully. You look, attempting to read from his expression what this gesture could possibly mean. He meets your gaze and smiles meaningfully, then the heat of his skin against yours dissipate. You almost tell him not to stop, but there’s a weight in your hand that wasn’t there before. And then his hands are gone, and the new content of your palm is revealed. He… gave you an egg.

It’s pitch black, but where the light hits the shell it shimmers in a rich blue colour. It’s absolutely gorgeous.

“I want you to have this.” He tells you. “He will look after you and keep you company. All you have to do is to feed him out of your hand, and the rest will come naturally. It’s a gesture of gratitude, and if you’ll allow it, friendship.”

You’re at a loss for words. To begin with, Fae gifts were frowned upon. They could be dangerous, _and_ there was the risk of indebting yourself that you weren’t willing to take. You have no idea what the egg in your hands will hatch into, and you were so surprised by it suddenly being there that you almost didn’t catch the Fae’s instructions.

“I.. I don’t know what to say. It’s a lovely gift, and I want to thank you but..”

“You are very clever to be so hesitant. But remember, you have already given me a gift, which I thanked you for. With this, we are even. There’s no debts. You have my word.”

You look up from the egg in your hands, meeting his gaze again and feeling your breath catch in your throat. Hopefully you can manage to pour the massive amount of gratitude you feel into words.

“Thank you. I will love and care for it.. him, I mean.”

The Fae smiles pleased, the warmth from his eyes finally slipping into the rest of his expression and you don’t understand how he manages to become more and more beautiful the longer you look at him.

“Good. You should let your friend there care of him for now. She’ll know what to do.” He stands aside and motion with one hand towards the pile of hay he left one of your birds on. You give him a questioning look, but he only smiles assuringly. You carefully stride past him and kneel down, then extend the egg for the hen to check. She regards it with mild interest, then stands up, seemingly so you can place it down in her new nest. She accepts it, and you look up to the fae boy with a surprised expression. His smile widens and he beckons you towards him. When you’re side by side he keeps walking to the door, so you follow.

“They are very lucky to have you to care for them. And I see it on your face when you talk to them, that they care for you just as much.”

“They really do.Without them and the cattle, I don’t think I would be the sane man I am today.” You joke, and he smiles back.

“I have to go back now. But know that it’s been really enlightening to talk to you. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.”

For a moment you panic. He’s been the first person you’ve talked to in years, and while you did okay before, now that you’ve had a taste of what company would feel like you’re not sure you’re going to be able to go without it again. Perhaps it’s stupid, wishing for a Fae to stick around, but if it is a mistake then at least you’re the only one around to suffer for it. And as an (ir)responsible adult, it's fully your decision to make.

And like he’s been able to tell what you’re thinking, he takes your hand again and squeezes it tight. Reassuringly.

“Remember your task. The egg. Care for him, for me. And we’ll care for you.”

It’s a promise that sends a warm shudder right through you. He’s looking right into your eyes when he says it, and to make matters worse, he brings your hand up and presses the softest of kisses to your knuckles. The smile on his face grows from your sharp intake of air, and he lets your hand go again. With how intently he’s always looking at you, it feels like half of the conversation is taking place in the silence between your words. It’s an intensity you cannot possibly hope to describe. Like holding his gaze forms a direct connection between the two of you.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but you feel the farewell when it happens. He lets go of your hand and takes a couple of steps backwards towards the forest.

Then he turns to walk normally. You don’t notice at first, with how the loose fabric flows around him. But when you see it, it snaps you right out of the dreamy haze he put you in.

Between his shoulder blades there's a thin but dark tear that seem to go the entire way down his back. It’s impossible to tell the full depth of it, but seeing the whites of his vertebrae not only gives you a good clue - but also a sinking feeling in your stomach.

He turns his head over his shoulders, absolutely to catch your reaction, because he chuckles with amusement when he sees what is probably a look of horror on your features. Then he disappears in behind the trees and leave you with a storm of thoughts and emotions.

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this instead of continuing on An Alien and A DJ, I'm sorry hjskd. The next update will definitely be for that story though <3


End file.
